Remember
by The.Dragon.Singer
Summary: We know them as ruthless killing machines. We know them as they are now. But do we know their past lives as humans? Alive?
1. First Loneliness

**Written by Kurohane Ookami.**

* * *

He was what most would call an introverted child.

His slate grey eyes and dark wavy hair grew deeper in color as he grew older, his hawkish features filling out into smoky lines and charcoal shadows.

He was a lone wolf, and he knew it.

Until college, at least.

He met another lone wolf, a gentle woman with long russet curls and bright blue eyes.

Her name was Anya.

They struggled through college together, Anya pursuing her dream of photography while he chased his own of being a graphic novelist.

It was a long three years, but they got there.

And then their Pack expanded with the arrival of their daughter, Lilynette.

He was enthralled by his daughter. How tiny and perfect she was with her unique violet eyes and the green tinted blond hair.

Suddenly, everything was right.

They bought a simple one story home in a quiet neighborhood, trees lining the road on either side.

It wasn't much at first, but it blossomed into something that was truly theirs. Photographs began filling up the empty shelves, pictures that Anya would sneak in whenever he fell asleep with Lilynette in his arms, or when he would sleep next to her on the floor.

And then there were pictures that he had taken, pages from his sketchbooks that had been framed and hung proudly on the walls. His first graphic novel was a month away from publication, and Anya couldn't be more proud of their accomplishments.

Eventually, another development was added on to their one way street, the momentary excitement dying down as everything settled.

And that was when tragedy struck.

Anya was diagnosed with a form of cancer that she had inherited from her mother's side of the family, and in a period of two years, she fought for her life.

Chemotherapy, treatments, and taking care of Lilynette finally began to show on his face, deep lines tattooed in his forehead and dark bags under his eyes.

Anya was into her second year of treatment when she died.

Lilynette was barely two and a half years old when she lost her mother, and he was thrust back into the loneliness he hadn't known since he was a child. Abandoned, unwanted.

But this time he had Lilynette.

She was his light, his star, and he clung to her like a lifeline.

Over several months, the pain dulled as Lilynette grew, changing from an infant to a toddler, her eyes wide and bright with curiosity.

He threw himself back into his work, publishing his newest graphic novel shortly before Lilynette's third Birthday. Titled _'The Curiosity of One's Self', _it told the story of his life. How he had met Anya, and the journey that had made him who he was today.

He was a stay at home father, and he personally wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

There had been rumors of a killer roaming the streets of their small town, and he had taken precautions against it by purchasing a gun and getting a license for it. Among other things, he purchased extra locks for the windows and doors, taking great care to set them where his curious toddler couldn't reach.

Satisfied with his work, life went on.

* * *

It was a balmy night, about seven, and Lilynette was fussing, so he lifted her into his careful and warm embrace to walk around the house, hoping to lull her to sleep.

There was a knock at the door.

Sighing, he paced over, distracted by Lilynette's fidgeting, and unlocked the door.

It slammed open, jarring him off balance and flying to the floor. He automatically rolled, protecting Lilynette the best he could, and tried to sit up, dazed.

His eyes locked with a tall male, and automatic dread pooled in his stomach. He held Lilynette closer to his chest, praying that she wouldn't make a sound, knowing that this man meant danger.

Lilynette took one look at the stranger in their home and burst into loud wails.

The gun fired.

He hit the floor, a bullet through his forehead, Lilynette falling next to him.

Another bullet fired, and then there was silence.

* * *

'_Anya Demetrius_

_Gentle Mother, Beloved Daughter.'_

'_Coyote Starrk_

_Father and Son. Loving and Loved.'_

'_Lilynette Starrk_

_Loved and Blessed Daughter.'_


	2. Second Time

He watched his grandchildren leave, a sense of finality casting his heart in a shadow.

Barragan turned into his small house, shuffling over to the coffee that he'd left on the table.

Toys were strewn on the couches, and there was a pink sparkling pencil on the table.

He smiled, touching each item, engraving them in his memory.

He was old, he knew, and he wouldn't be here forever. Any time he had left with his family was sacred.

Barragan had had a good life; filled with love.

His wife had died nearly five years ago, due to breast cancer, and while he was sad, he was also glad she wasn't suffering any longer.

His children, numbering six in total, had all grown up, gone to college and moved out.

Of the six, four had married, while the two youngest were in University; one in America, the other in China.

Of the four married children he had, three had children of their own, and the fourth had one on the way.

Barragan loved them all.

He didn't have many friends in his old age, most having moved to old folk homes around the region or in with family, while others were dead.

And he knew in his heart that he would join the friends that were gone soon, possibly within the next year or two.

* * *

The night was warm, and Barragan wandered his home, coffee in hand. The television had been turned off, the books placed down and the elder was more than ready to go to bed.

Exhaustion lined his bones as he trudged towards his bed, climbing under the covers and sighing.

Warmth spread up his weary body, and he drifted to sleep.

* * *

"Where's Jii-san, Oka-san?" The little boy tugged his mother's long dress.

"He's gone to Heaven, kiddo." She soothed, brushing a strand of her purple-tinted hair back.

"What's Heaven?" The child asked, curiosity in his eyes.

"It's where all the very good people go when they die."

"Charrlotte," Her husband moved to take the child. "It's your turn."

Charlotte moved towards the stand which the eldest of her brothers had taken.

"My father," She began. "What can I say? He was hilarious. I don't think he ever once raised his voice at me."

"That's cause you're a girl!"

"Quiet, Ggio." Charlotte glared at her youngest brother playfully. "You get to talk later."

They laughed, before falling quiet.

**-;-**

_Barragan Louisenbarin_

_Beloved Grandfather and friend_

_The Life of the Dead is Placed Within the Memory of the Living_


	3. Third Sacrifice

The blonde tapped her shoes against the welcome mat.

"I'm leaving!" She called into the house before shutting the door, and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

The large-breasted female jogged for the bus waiting at the end of the driveway, clutching her books.

She climbed aboard and wedged herself into the empty first seat, pushing up her turquoise glasses.

"Look it's Big and Blond." One of the popular girls laughed, throwing an apple sauce at her. It splattered over her head, drenching her tight braid in apple as she protected her books.

"Rose, you missed!" The Chinese girl beside the dark-skinned half-Brazilian laughed, throwing a yogurt. It dripped down the blond's back.

"Nice throw, Sung-Sun." The Japanese girl with a black bob laughed, falling into her seat and adjusting her skimpy top.

* * *

The blond sighed quietly, hiding her frown in the large neck of her turtleneck, as she cleaned her hair.

"Look who we have here…" There was the sound of cracking knuckles behind her and the tall blond's green eyes darted upwards.

"Were you waiting long?" Sung-Sun asked, a cruel smirk upon her pretty features. The blond backed into the counter, knocking her books into the still running faucet in her fear.

The three girls' shrieking laughter echoed down the halls.

* * *

"Welcome-" Her mother stopped, lifting her arms and brushing her hands over her eldest daughter's hair.

"Belle, what happened to your hair?"

She hid her gaze, crossing her arms across her chest.

Short uneven strands of blond appeared in her line of vision.

"Belle," She lifted her tear filled eyes to her mother, Pema. "It's those girls, isn't it?"

She nodded, tears spilling down her dark cheeks. Pema sighed, drawing her baby girl close.

"Let's go shopping in a bit, hm?" She smoothed her daughter's short hair.

"I'm not going out like this." The blond shook her head against her mother's shoulder.

"Then it's a good thing I'm a hairdresser, Belle."

* * *

"Who's she?"

"I heard she's a model in America."

"No. That can't be it."

"Whoever she is, she's pretty."

The blond smiled to herself, hidden in the depths of her new high-necked jacket.

There was a tap on her shoulder, and the blond turned.

"You think that you can look better than us?" Sung-Sun sneered, tossing her black hair over her shoulder.

Several of the watching students shifted closer to watch. She merely turned back to her locker, sorting through her books.

"Those boots are knockoffs." Apacci taunted.

And she stood up for herself.

"So?"

A hush fell over the crowd as Apacci stammered before turning on her heel and marching away.

She allowed herself a small victory.

**-;-**

"How was your day, Belle?" Pema called from the kitchen. The blond slammed the door, storming up the stairs.

"Oh dear."

The phone rang and Pema moved to answer it.

"Moshi, moshi? Yes, she's here. One moment, please." Pema turned her face up the stairs. "Belle, there's a boy on the phone!"

Pema didn't wait long for her daughter to appear, snatch the phone from her hand, and push her into the kitchen. It was nearly five-minutes later when the blond returned to the kitchen.

"Well?"

"I've been invited to a party tonight."

"Then go shower! I'll pick you something out!"

* * *

Dressed in a turquoise sequin halter dress, the blond maneuvered herself into the party.

"Thanks for coming."

She nodded, eyes following the loud people.

"Kotaro," Mila Rose's voice rang out. "I think you forgot to take out the trash!"

"Naw, she's invited." Kotaro waved away the three females, who turned on the blond.

"You invited?" Sung-Sun scoffed, circling her.

"In that? What is it, your mothers?" Mila Rose cackled, the noise increasing at her nod.

"Get out of here, blondy." Apacci laughed, pushing her out the back door. "You're not welcome."

They backed her up to the pool, before returning inside.

There was a loud splash, and she turned, registering the situation and diving into the water.

She grabbed the male, and heaved him to the surface.

* * *

"Hello," Pema worried her lip. "I'd like to report a missing person."

"My daughter. She's seventeen."

"She was leaving for a party on Friday."

"About five-nine, dark skin, blond, green eyes."

Pema was quiet.

"Thank you."

And she placed down the phone.

**-;-**

The phone rang, barely once before Pema was lifting it to her ear.

"Hello? Have you found her?" She was quiet before her hand flew to her mouth. "Right away, sir. Thank you for your time."

And she left the house.

* * *

Pema gazed down at the picture of her daughter, then placed a bouquet of poppies onto the blond's gravestone.

"Oh, baby girl," She ran her hand along her daughter's tombstone. "What went wrong? I loved you. I could have done something different. Belle, why did you go? Why did you do it? Couldn't you have let him die? Baby girl, I wish you were here. Your papa came home from the navy last week, expecting to see you."

"I cry every time I see his face, when I tell him our baby girl is gone. I expect your voice before the bus drives by. I remember the games and the girl's nights. You were my best friend, my daughter, and my life. Where did you go, Belle?"

Pema stood.

"Wherever you are, I hope you're happy. That's all I wanted for you." She placed the large-rimmed turquoise glasses on the top of the tombstone, before leaving the cemetery.

_Tier Harribel,_

_Student, daughter, friend and savior._

_No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted._


	4. Fourth Emptiness

His long black hair and alabaster skin drew attention.

His unnaturally green eyes prompted taunts.

His happy personality faded away until there was nothing but sarcasm and despair.

His school life was torture, his home life was busy and the poor boy had no time for himself.

It wasn't until he was done his schooling, that the strange boy found his calling.

Dressed in black, long hair drawn into a ponytail and cap it all with a top hat.

He made a fantastic Undertaker.

Dead people couldn't make fun of him. Dead people couldn't taunt him, or throw sticks at him.

The dead were much better company, and they were wonderful listeners.

* * *

It was wrong, he knew, to pursue a woman.

But when she walked into his small workshop, she lit it up.

Alice was a ray of sunshine. Born half-Japanese half-American, her tan skin and honey blond hair stuck out like a sore thumb.

She was crying when she entered, tears falling from her big blue eyes and she dabbed frantically at them with her tiny lace handkerchief.

"What can I do for you today, Alice-san?"

She started, eyes darting as he stepped from the shadows and lit a lantern.

"I didn't mean to intrude, Undertaker-san." She placed a hand against her heaving bosom, which was hidden beneath a kimono embroidered with butterflies.

"I wasn't busy today. I haven't had much company today, except for Kyo and Kenji."

"Who?"

The undertaker ran his fingers along a coffin.

"Hideki Kenji-sama, youngest son of Hideki Hikaru. Born seven years ago, died on Monday." He gave a slight smirk down at the peaceful boy.

"What brings you to my workshop?" He didn't turn.

"I was being chased by some gang men and this was the first place I saw."

"There's a flower shop next door." He supplied.

There was a sudden banging on the door. Alice paled.

He sighed internally, but ushered her into his back room before returning to open the door.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen." He placed his hands together. "What can I do for you this gloomy evening? Are you here, pray chance, to be fitted?"

"Fitted?" The large man on the left grunted. "Whatchu talkin bout?"

"Why for your coffin!" He glided into his workplace and rummaged in one of the drawers. "Everyone will die sometime. I've got a discount on cherry wood coffins at the moment. Would you like to see?"

He moved to the back room, placing his hand on the doorknob.

"I warn you though," His face split into a devilish grin. "Don't disturb my customers."

"Customers?" The feminine male on the right scratched his head.

"Yes. Kenji, and Li. Kenji died Monday. Li died yesterday. Castration and nearly scooped clean! Makes my job so much easier."

"Let's go." The leader turned, shutting the door behind him.

The undertaker let out the blond, who was quiet paper than normal.

"Tea?"

She shook her head, striding to the door and leaving the pale man behind.

"You be back." He muttered. "Everyone always makes it here."

* * *

It was nearly four years later, when he felt the tremors of death himself. Having been diagnosed with cancer, it wasn't a surprise, but it was slightly disappointing.

The day he died was rainy, thundering and blue-white flashes of lightening illuminated inside of his simple bedroom.

He _wished_ he had done more with his life. He _wished_ he had found a love to hold.

He _wished_ that Alice had seen him for more than _just_ an undertaker.

* * *

Alice was fifty when she strode through the cemetery with her grandchildren.

She stopped before one of the graves, one she hadn't noticed beside her own father's.

It was simple, shaped like a headstone; except it was carved with skulls and looked like a large beast had clawed at it, tearing three claw marks out of the side.

The writing was still legible.

_Here sleeps Ulquiorra Chifer, Undertaker._


	5. Fifth Despair

They were thrust together by their parents when they were two, and for as long as Nnoitra could remember, he had hated Nel.

They were five when Nnoitra's younger brother Tesla was born. He was tanner that Nnoitra, with large brown eyes and a smile that never seemed to leave his face.

Nnoitra adored Tesla. He would do anything to protect his little brother, and more often than not, it would get him into trouble.

Nnoitra was ten when he joined the Praying Mantis dojo down the street.

"Nnoitra! Nnoitra!" Nel darted over, shoulder-length blond hair flying behind her. "Are you joining here too!? If you work really hard, maybe you can be in the same class as me!"

"Watcha mean?" He scowled down at her through his long black bangs.

"I'm a green belt! You have to start at white, so try hard to work your way up!" She returned to the class with the other students.

That was the day Nnoitra vowed to best her.

* * *

Nnoitra was fifteen when he got the tattoo. It was a crescent moon along his shoulder, dripping blood along his back as it poured off.

Nel was also fifteen when she got her tattoo. It was a small three on her ankle, surrounded by a pair of curved horns.

They constantly compared them, trying to decide which was better.

They never did come to a conclusion.

* * *

"Nel's pretty hot, man."

Nnoitra scoffed, rolling his eyes at the boys around him.

"I mean, look at the size of those boobs." His friend nodded, gesturing at the melons beneath her cheerleader shirt.

He felt his anger rise.

Nnoitra stabbed his fork into his lunch, before shoving his chair back and stomping across the cafeteria.

Nel glanced up as he leaned over her, placing his arm in front of her lunch.

"Nnoitra-kun, what-" She fell silent as he thrust his lips against hers, silencing the girl.

The chains around his waist jingled as he sat, and drew the pretty female into his lap.

Nnoitra had always been more of a do-first, think-later kind of guy. He got into fights, he dressed in black, and he didn't actually have many friends, except his brother.

The cafeteria fell silent, and he glared from beneath his bangs.

He pulled away from a minute and then grinned at the flustered girl.

"Nnoitra, I-" She gulped, glancing at the crowd out of the corner of her eyes. "You're still taking me to the movies tonight, right?"

"I guess. If you wanted to do something else…" He trailed off suggestively. Nel smacked his arm.

"You pervert!"

* * *

It was that incident that sparked their relationship, and it wasn't until college that Nnoitra even thought of proposing.

There were many hateful glares on his part, and he wasn't the most attractive male around.

He was buying a ring when disaster struck; or rather he was on his way back to their apartment.

The attacker came from behind, stabbing at the tall male. Fortunately for Nnoitra, the attacker missed.

Unfortunately, the knife hit his left eye.

He screamed, lashing backwards with his leg before falling to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

"Let me into that fucking room." Nel snarled, trying to push past the doctor. As if sensing her predicament, Tesla poked his head out.

"There you are, sis." He grabbed her arm and pulled her in, locking the door behind her.

Nel darted over to the bed on which her boyfriend lay, half his head covered in blood stained bandages.

"Nnoitra, are you alright?" She asked, dropping to her knees beside him.

"Jeans pocket. Right side. Open box." The tall male grunted, wincing.

She grabbed the jeans beside the bed.

Tesla peered over her shoulder.

"Wow! Looks expensive!" he grinned. "It's shiny too!"

"It's a diamond, idiot." Nnoira smacked his brother gently.

Nel nodded, tears bursting from her eyes as she hurled herself at Nnotira.

"Watch the eye! Watch the eye!"

* * *

It was almost as though a warning sign went off in Nnoirta's head when he woke that horribly stormy night. He crept from his bed, prying his torso from Nel's grip and sneaking towards the fridge for a beer.

There was a faint creaking noise, and Nnoitra spun, hurling the beer in his hand.

"I was going to get my own," Tesla stared down at the drink. "But this one will work fine. Thanks, bro!"

"Don't do that, Tesla." Nnoitra sighed, picking out another beer.

"It's not like you have anything to say. You and Nel need to get sound-proofing."

"It ain't my fault she's a screamer."

"It's the unlikely ones that are the loudest. Still, I managed to do my homework."

"Well then," Nnoitra grinned, rubbing the top of his brother's head. "We'll just have to do it every night."

"Oh, please don't. My college grades will suffer."

"As if! You're smarter than Nel and I could ever be." Nnoitra snorted. "Combined."

"Thanks." The two men laughed, not noticing the shadow slip into the dimly lit kitchen.

* * *

"Earlier this evening three young adults were found murdered in their apartment." The news-anchor folded her hands in front of her. "Nnoitra Gilga, Telsa Gilga, and Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck were the residents of this two bedroom apartment. Nnoitra and Nelliel were engaged, and his younger brother was living with them while he attended college. Nnoitra and Nelliel had just finished themselves."

"No evidance has been found on the killer, but any break-ins should be reported. More on this story at six."

* * *

_Nnoitra Gilga_

_Brother and fiancé_

_Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck_

_Friend to many_

_Tesla Gilga_

_Brother and student_

_Loyal to the End_


	6. Sixth Destruction

He had always had a fascination with cats. Big cats, little cats, calico, black, blue eyes, green eyes, fat and thin.

Cats were his favorite.

It wasn't until the trip to the local zoo in fourth grade, that the cat-lover developed his larger fascination with panthers.

They were sleek animals, with rippling black fur and half-lidded tawny eyes.

He stared at them, entranced until the teacher pulled him away. His thoughts were on panthers for the rest of the day.

* * *

His high school mascot was a panther, and he was a jock, proud to display his number and his muscles.

He scored the winning touch-down in the last game of the season.

And then, the shit hit the fan.

He'd had a normal life, with kind parents and a younger sister.

That was, until his parents got divorced. His new step-father was a large man, with enormous standards, alcoholic tendencies and a temper that would send a spider scurrying for safety.

And he was _always_ on the receiving end.

That was when the drugs started, and he quit the football team. The drugs cast a haze over his pain, over the destruction he lived in.

The drugs kept him from lashing back.

* * *

"-worthless piece of shit! All of you! Dying your hair blue! That's stupid! What's blue hair gonna do for you!? Huh? You're still ugly as the shit on my shoe!"

Kick. Hit the wall. Stay quiet.

"Your sister is a good girl! Look at her!"

Jaw grabbed. Forced to face her. Stay quiet.

"She does her homework! She does her chores! She bakes cookies! She does everything you don't! You and your worthless mother! I should have married your sister instead!"

_Don't do it._

"Let's go for a drive!" His step-father roared, shoving him towards the car and grabbing his sister's arm.

**-;-**

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Ayame was dead, limbs splayed, blood gushing and sand seeping with red.

He beat his fist against the wall.

She was dead. _He_ had pushed her off the cliff.

His mother was in hysterics. _He_ was telling lies.

And the teen? He couldn't do shit.

* * *

Fights broke out, both at home and at school. The drugs increased, the hair stayed blue and the abuse continued.

"-worthless fucking male! Your sister was better than you at everything!"

Kick. Hit the wall. Stay quiet.

"Your B in math? I could do better with my eyes closed."

Punch. Stay quiet.

"Grades better improve! Not that your looks could! You're the shit on my shoe! I pay a good amount of money for the food you eat, the clothes you wear! So does your mother! She's out now, working for her worthless son because somewhere in her heart she pities you. I don't! Let's all-"

Don't do it.

Don't do it.

Don't do it.

Don't do it.

Don't do it.

Don't do it.

_Screw that._

His fist flew out, knocking his step-father across the room and into the opposite wall.

"That was for insulting my mother."

He followed it with a kick to the gut.

"That was for drinking her hard-earned money."

He grabbed the vase on the table.

"This is for murdering my sister!"

China shattered around them, and his step-father stood.

"You'll pay for this, boy."

And he just walked away.

* * *

The tattoo burned against his skin, guilt riding his waves of pain.

The panther; it was something he once displayed in pride, and now it was there to keep him sane.

He lived in fear of when the step-menace would strike.

"Let's go for a drive."

The rebellious teen in the destructive world looked up, fear in his eyes as he was hauled towards the car.

* * *

He opened his blue eyes, blinking against the bright lights of the hospital room.

"-as long as he wakes up." There was a pause in the voice. "He should make a full recovery. Look, he's awake now."

His mother appeared in his vision, dressed in her black suit hair falling around her pale, taunt face.

"Do you remember what happened?"

And it all came back.

The squeal of tires. Metal crunching in on itself. Pain. Lights and sirens.

"Don't speak there, bucko." The doctor chuckled, brushing his fingers against the medical equipment beside the bed. "Your jaw was broken in the accident. You'll have to nod and shake your head for the next several weeks."

He nodded.

* * *

It was raining and the small procession met the rain with tears. They were dressed in black, with white lilies strewn down their path.

Dirt moved over the lacquered coffin.

'_I'm here.' _He tried to say, but they didn't seem to here. '_Mom, don't cry. I'm right here._'

His expression morphed, anger crossing his features as he darted away from the funeral.

'_I'm here.'_

'_I'm here. I'm here. I'm here. I'm here. I'm here.'_

"Goodbye, baby. Take care of your sister."

He stopped, glancing back at his mother before taking the spot she was leaving.

_Here lies Grimmjow Jeagerjaques. _

_Beloved son, brother and friend._


	7. Seventh Intoxication

Zommari had been in the military since he was a small boy, sent for being rebellious. His parents loved him, they told him that, and yet Zommari didn't believe them.

So, he focused on his promising career.

He was twenty when he was relocated to southern China. His training began the moment he stepped off the plane.

* * *

It was during his years in China that he met Majo.

She was tall, with a lean body. Her eyes were silver and her long hair was black. Her skin was a shade between his mocha and tan, like a creamy coffee.

She cast gazes at him from the corner of her eye as she dressed in the morning, sliding the green and khaki shirts over her head.

Zommari fell in love.

* * *

"Who are you talking to?" Zommari asked, leaning against the corner of the wall. Majo snapped her head up, braid whipping against her back.

"No one." She strode past, hands clenching into fists.

"Didn't sound like no one."

"You don't talk much. Why now?"

"I'm curious."

Majo cast her silver eyes over to him before shrugging and vanishing into the woman's bathroom.

Zommari's eyes narrowed, but he shrugged it off.

* * *

"Oi."

He grumbled, swatting away hands that shook his shoulder.

"Oi, Rureaux."

"I'm sleeping. Can't you see that? Or are you blind." He snarled, eyes firmly shut. "Piss off."

"Wake up, dammit." Breasts pressed against his back before his blanket vanished, and he shivered.

"What are you doing here, Majo?"

"Hurry up. I need your help."

He slid into his shoes and grabbed the jacket beside his bunk, before following her into the darkness and striding to the main building.

"Watch my back." She commanded, turning to the locked doors.

Zommari turned, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his frozen fingers into his armpits.

* * *

"I had the strangest dream." Zommari yawned, dropping into his place at the long mess-hall tables.

"Really?" The burly man beside him cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I dreamt that Majo was a witch."

"Wouldn't be surprising." One of the men who had transferred with him sat down. "Her name is witch. No if, ands, or buts. It's creepy, especially with her eyes. I heard a rumor that they glow in the dark."

Zommari shrugged.

* * *

The large black man pressed himself into the muddy trench, clutching his gun like a lifeline.

Blood splashed around his feet as he leapt to return fire.

But he froze.

Pressing a pistol to his head was Majo, a cruel smile on her face and raven's feather twined in her hair.

"Thanks for your help, Rureaux." She sneered, leaping over the trench wall. He grabbed her ankle, twisting and eliciting a yelp from her mouth.

"You're not going anywhere." He smashed his hand down on the back of her neck, and hauled her back to camp as the sun dropped behind the horizon.

* * *

"That's horrible." The burly man from the mess hall grunted, barely keeping down his lunch. "Who did this?"

Zommari was splayed on his back, surrounded by five barely flickering candles at the point of a pentacle. He was bare, save his name tag, which was stabbed into his chest.

A bowl of blood stood off to one side, next to a bowl containing what once would have been his manly parts.

There was the sound of someone throwing up, and it triggered a chain event.

Majo smirked.

* * *

_Zommari Rereax_

_Served his country well._


	8. Eighth Madness

**Written by Kurohane Ookami**

* * *

He was two when he learned how to speak.

He was four when his parents realized he was a mathematical prodigy.

He was seven when he was hospitalized in the Institution.

He was considered a freak, a creature that was to be hidden away from the world. How could he know what he was doing was considered 'insane'? He was a seven year old boy who literally _could not_ stop writing the numbers.

* * *

Eventually, he was locked in a padded cell, where he continued to write the equations and numbers, things that couldn't even be described by even the most advanced scientists or mathimatical genius' of their time.

He was seventeen when he tore open his own wrist with his teeth, using the blood to smoothly trace the numbers along the pristine white. The orderly on hand, luckily, had been keeping a close eye on him, and had managed to get him medical attention before he would bleed out.

After that, they made sure to muzzle him like some kind of dog, taking care to never let him loose again.

But still, mysteriously, the muzzle was discarded every morning when the alarms went off. Still, the writing continued.

And the madness that burned within his veins roared like a thousand wolves.

* * *

He was twenty-nine when he died. Alone, without anyone to notice or care. He'd starved himself, driven mad by the flickering figures and numbers that had been flashing before his eyes his entire life. He had never known the compassion of a human being until the day he died.

There was only one person there to say good-bye. The older brother he had barely known and turned to when he had been scared and alone. The only person in the entire world who cared that he was gone.

But how would he know? He barely even remembered his own name, in the end.

* * *

_'Szayel Aporro Granz. _

_Destined for Greatness._

_A loved brother.'_


	9. Ninth Greed

Aaron and Aero had long been each of the others' best friend.

Born two minutes apart, Aaron took pride in being the eldest.

They were talented kids, the twins. Both had a fastination with performing.

Aero entered ballet, and Aaron entered singing. They were five when they switched lessons; Aaron entering ballroom, Aero singing.

They were ten when they stopped, but turned their attention to theatre. It was there that they found their calling.

Their first musical was 'Grease', and like all performances of this particular show, it went off with a hit.

Through the years they preformed in many shows, before moving to Broadway in New York the moment they graduated.

* * *

Aaron hummed as he ran his fingers over the flowers adorning his desk. His make-up artist sighed, shifting her body so she could finish his face.

"Monsieur Arruruerie, could you keep still." She snapped.

He huffed, returning to his thoughts of money and large house.

**-:-**

Aero met her brother off-stage right after his bow.

"Fantastique, brother." She smiled, looping her arm through his and striding down the hall.

"We are still not good enough." He insisted. "We are nowhere near ze top, sister."

"To make it to the top takes time." One of the elder actors shook his head. Aaron and Aero shared a looked, then laughed.

"We don't have time, you old coot." Aero snorted. "We could end up like you!"

The twins nearly skipped down the hall, their mocking laughter echoing down the backstage halls.

* * *

"This dress is pretty." Aero ran her hands along the fabric, then frowned. "But it is not expensive enough to cast people's attention to moi at the party."

"Nor is this suit." Aaron agreed. "But there is a jeweler not far from here. We will buy things from there."

She nodded, following her brother out into the blustery day.

A car splashed by, drenching the sidewalk and Aero sneered as she stepped over the puddle.

"I wouldn't want-" Another car threw water up the sidewalk onto her long skirt and shoes.

"MY FOUR THOUSAND DOLLAR SHOES!" She shrieked, shaking her fist a the driver. "You asshole!"

Aaron smirked, hiding his amusement when his sister turned.

"We will return home."

* * *

Home consisted of a four floor penthouse suit with nine bathrooms, nine bedrooms and a kitchen that was twice as big as it should be.

Aero stormed to her rooms on the third floor, while Aaron retreated to his loft.

Their chef would arrive at five to cook them a four course meal, where they would proceed to stuff themselves until popping.

**-;-**

Money was one thing the Arrureires had an abundance of, as well as food and space.

They never shared, they never donated, they always bought and they were vain.

The twins had everything they could ever want, except they wanted more.

Most actors they shared the stage with hated their beings with a passions.

* * *

Wires sparked, metal groaned and the musical number below continued.

Screws buckled, nearly out of their placements, nails snapped, cables broke and with a screech of rendering metal, the lighting beams and speakers broke.

* * *

Many people believed that the twins had got what was coming to them.

Many didn't know who they were.

Many didn't care and many more were disappointed with their passing.

However, there wasn't a way to save someone trapped beneath a large pile of steel, wire and glass.

Her wails permiated the air, but with a large spary of sparks, the noise cut off.

* * *

_Aaron Arrurerie_

_Broadway Actor and brother_

_Aero Arrurerie_

_Broadway Diva and sister_


	10. Tenth Rage

Yammy shifted, muscles rippled under his expensive suit and metal clicked against leather at his thighs and under his jacket.

A hand appeared in his line of sight, and Yammy passed a gun to the leader.

The shot fired, and the muscular man slid the hot machine back into its sheath.

The man before them whimpered, clutching his leg.

"Let that be a lesson to you. Get out." The men at the door dragged the man out the door, not bothering to be careful of his deep and bleeding wound.

"I'm going." The leader stood, adjusting his hat and gold watch. Yammy's eyes were draw to it, but the glance was hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. "I'll trust that you'll keep things running, Prince."

The man on the 'King's' other side nodded. The guards opened the door as Yammy and the King passed through.

* * *

Yammy's fingers opened and closed as his rage surfaced, bubbling under his skin in an undeniable urge to rip something to shreds.

His hand brought out a gun involuntarily, and he rubbed it against his sleeve, brushing away specks of unseen, and non-existing, dirt.

The rival gang warlord sneered, gesturing his own boys back.

Yammy's rage snapped and his brought up both the guns in his holsters, bullets bursting from them. The rival gang 'soldiers' fell. There were enough that Yammy ran out of bullets.

"Now, how about that deal?" King asked, smirking. "You have no back up."

The warlord pulled a gun from his back pocket, and the muscular bodyguard didn't even flinch as metal dug through his shoulders.

* * *

"What are we going to do?" The Prince snarled. "Your…goon ruined our plans!"

"This _may _work in our favor." King glared up at Yammy. "And I hope for his sake, it does."

The man had the decency to look ashamed.

Inside, however, he was steaming.

_Did the King expect him to __**not**__ fight back?_

_For the other warlord to fill him full of lead? _

He was sorely mistaken.

Yammy wasn't that kind of guy.

* * *

Ever since he was young, the too large and too musclely man had had anger issues. No amount of therapy could cure it and his parents eventually took him to karate, where it was toned down some because he had an out-source.

He was fourteen when he accidentally killed his parents.

Well, he'd meant to do it at the time. But he didn't really _mean _it.

He'd been sent to juvy for several years, and when he came out, he'd joined Kuro Ichigo.

_Why _it was called Black Strawberry was beyond his intelligence, and Yammy was sure there was a long , boring, story behind it that he really didn't want to hear.

He'd worked his way up to a Five Star Elite, and was working as the King's personal bodyguard. There were things that he knew, that most of the gang members wouldn't ever.

* * *

"We should get rid of him."

"How? He'll go into a rage and we'll die!"

"Besides, he's always near the King."

"So, we'll get him when he's _not._"

"Well, that makes sense. How are we going to kill him?"

"Bullets?"

"You're fucking joking, right?"

"No…"

"Did you see the bullets that got pulled out of him this time?"

"This time?"

"Oh, right. You're pretty new. His record is thirty-one."

"Holy mother fucking balls of a transvestite!"

"Yeah. That's his record. However, I ain't heard of him surviving a grenade."

"We'll get him somewhere secluded. Like the secondary outhouse."

"I'll get the out of order signs."

* * *

_Yammy Llargo_

_Died in the bathroom._

_What a loser._

_5-Star Elite _


	11. Reviews

**Hikiri- [ULQUIORRA yay. Love him.] **_Yup, Ulquiorra's great._

**Mary Lou- [This is very nicely written, but so sad. ****This story reminds me of the song, Eleanor Rigby, by the Beatles, which refers to all of the lonely people in the world. They live a lonely life and die lonely. I wonder if Alice remembered how the Undertaker had helped her all of those years ago. It would be nice if someone remembered him.****] **_Yes, unfortunately, nobody really remembers him._

**Mary Lou- [****Another well-written chapter. Grimmjow never stood a chance. Just like so many kids in real life.****] **_It's sad. Thank you._

**Mary Lou- [****It says in the Bible that no one has a greater love than one that lays their life down for another. Karma literally means action or doing. In other words, you reap what you sow. Which could explain why Tia becomes the trio's superior in their next life. By the way, another nicely written chapter.****] **_I'm actually not religious in anyway, so I don't read the Bible. But thank you for the fact. And thank you._

**Hikiri- [****AWW so sad i like the tombstone****]**

**Hikiri- [****awww. Loyal to the End -thats cute****]**

**Irah- [****Ohhhhhh that was amazing. Very dark, almost as if I was watching a late-night horror show on T.V XD it definitley gave me the spooks in all the good reasons. :D  
I felt sympathy for him when he was diagnosed (sp) with and how he wanted to love. I really enjoyed reading this!****] **_Fantastic, that's the basic idea I was going for with Ulquiorra's. _

**Irah- [****I almost cried at the end :O but what really broke my heart was the little sister being flung off the cliff. *sighs* I was holding the waterworks though lol. Once again, it was almost like I was watching an episode on t.v it is a truly fantastic way you wrote in this type of story telling. I also can't help but to be so infuriated with the mom since she didn't do anything to stop him at first but once he stood up for himself, I was relieved until...you know lol ****] **_Thank you. This is the first time I've written anything like this before, but hey, there's a first time for everything!_

**Irah- [****Awww man how I wished somebody would have stepped in and beat the crap out of the three behemoths. I'm so against bullying (as you can tell). The mom part when she called in for a 'missing person report' was what really got to me. I can't even imagine the pain that she had to endure during that call. Lovely chapter.****] **_I felt so bad for Pema. Each of these first ones are kind of tragic._

**Irah- [****Noo Stark ( truly sad and leaving me feeling alone myself / so heartwrenching that it hurts. The three of them gone away! I know this is a dark matter but it would be cool if you made a story out of this chapter. There's so much dept in this that I can't find the right words to describe it. Sad way to go. I hope the guy who did it rots in H. hockey sticks -.- The more I go the more I can't stop, this is truly a wonder to read.****] **_You'll have to go to Kurohane Ookami's profile. She wants to make a story out of it. Thank you. She wrote Szayel's too. _

**Irah- [****It was too damn cute when she grabbed the ring in his pocket, he he told her 'watch the eye' like everything was going well then someone just had to ruin it...and for what? -.- a senseless killing. I love the whole plotline of each chapter but this has to be my second favorite chapter so far.****] **_There had to be at least one fluffy chapter. So this one was it. Which was your first favorite?_

**Irah- [****This chapter was comforting. Atleast he went peacefully in the night. Love the ending part with Charlotte giving...her...speech and the rest of his fraccion and family listen. It brought a light touch to the gloom.****] **_Barragan deserves more attention, and although I really don't like him (and I've had a nightmare about Charlotte), I thought he should go peacefully. Each one-shot has something to do with either their zanpakuto or death aspect._

**Irah- [****They both were such douche-s but I wouldn't wish death on them. Lol I don't know why but the old guy who spoke to them I couldn't help but think of his as death in the flesh lol don't mind me...just thinking. Anywho, awesome chapter, so sad that I reached the end so suddenly but It was just too intriguing. Sitting on pens and needles :D****] **_I dunno who the old guy was, but they were les French assholes. _

**Guest- [:Lovely Darling Absolutely Marvelous. Love ya- Huggles] **_THANK YOU!_

**So, now that I've answered all the reviews…I have an author's note for you, or as I like to call them, Singer's Rambles.**

**Now, that I've (and Kurohane Ookami) have finished the Espada, it's time to move on.**

**So either, I'll finish this up….**

**-booing-**

**Or, by popular vote, (aka my choice), we'll continue.**

**With what you may ask?**

**Why with our beloved Shinigami! Duh.**

**Kurohane has claimed Hisagi, Isane, Shunsui, Iba, Nanao, Rukia, Yumichika and Soifon.**

**Fortunately, or unfortunately, I'm not sure yet….The rest are mine.**

**Now, you may also be wondering…. '**_**Well, Singer, what about the Visored, and Urahara and Yoruichi?!**_**'**

**If the Shinigami Drabbles are a hit, then maybe….just maybe… we'll do the Visored, and the Urahara pair.**

**Maybe.**

**So, to conclude.**

**This is continuing.**

**But in another story, which will probably be called Remember the Dead…**

**Review more.**

**TELL YOUR GOD-DAMN FRIENDS TO READ THIS…**

**Um, anything else…**

**Nope that's it.**

**Have nice life.**

**Singer.**


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